


Silvermaille: The First Fight

by Rowena_Bensel



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gladiators, Golden Age of Cybertron, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, The Pits of Kaon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5768302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowena_Bensel/pseuds/Rowena_Bensel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is time for Silvermaille's first fight in the Pits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silvermaille: The First Fight

The day had come. After several months of training in the lower levels of the Pits, trying to master this new body and facing down several trainers, Silvermaille was ready for her first fight.

She stood in the waiting cage, looking herself over. How she wished she was polished up, but this wasn’t the grand matches in the larger stadiums. This was a small one, held at night and in the dark. She was one of twenty competitors, ten matches. The victors went home with several Shanix in their subspaces, the losers, they usually were not able to care about what they didn’t get.

_If I die, can I go home?_

The thought had crossed her mind a few times in the past several weeks, but she always came to the same answer; _I have no idea._

She was on a distant world, her body changed from organic to cybernetic, and she had no way of knowing if her mind and soul had changed as well. Maybe she’d go home. Maybe she’d to the Well. Maybe she’d go to Heaven or Hell.

Hmm, song lyric. Interesting. Save that line for later.

Those thoughts did nothing to change her where and what she was at that moment; a scuffed up Seeker, standing in the dark, a pair of crude but sharp swords in her servos, waiting for the call to come out. 

And there it was, the sound of the crowd cheering getting louder as the door opened before her. The arena had been cleared for the new match, through the stains left by the previous bouts showed how bloody they had been. She thought she’ll never get used to blue being where red should be. 

“Our next match! The champion Dreadbolt!-” the crowd cheered as her opponent stepped out. He was a big red mech, about a head taller than she was and bulked up. He brought to mind ‘roid ragers, and he seemed to act like one. 

“-Verses, newcomer Silvermaille!”

She stepped into the arena, noticing the previous cheers turned to jeers at her. Dreadbolt sneered.

“A little femme? I thought this would be a real fight!” the rager shouted. She didn’t bother to try and catch his name. 

“You sure are cocky,” she said, falling into her ready stance.

He glared down at her, his own weapon in servo, a meat cleaver of a sword. “I am the champion of this ring! You think you stand a chance against me!?”

“Let’s find out.”

The announcer called for the start of the match, and Silvermaille stood her ground as Dreadbolt charged at her, pulling his sword back over his helm to swing at her. At the last second, she crouched and jumped up, using her thrusters to give her enough lift to sail over the mech’s helm. His sword got caught in the ground from the force of his swing. She turned as she fell back, dragging one of her swords across his back, cutting a deep gouge in the armor, though not enough to reach any energon lines. When her pedes touched the ground, she made a swipe at the back of his knees before retreating, just as he wretched his sword free and swung around at her.

She retreated several paces, her blades crossed in a defensive position. Her blue-green optics narrowed as she watched and waited for the mech’s next move.

He stalked towards her, and she retreated a few feet, before dashing to his right side. He turned with her, stepping closer and swinging at her again. She slid under the blade, her own whipping up, one for his wrist and elbow, the other for a gap in the armor of his side. Once behind him, she rolled, planting her swords in the ground and using them to raise herself up to kick him in the back with both pedes. 

Dreadbolt fell forward, losing his grip on his sword and hitting the dirt. Slivermaille pulled her swords from the ground and ran at him before he could roll over. Her right sword, her off-servo, stabbed into the back of his knee, slicing wires and jamming the mechanisms inside. He roared in pain and rolled over to glare at her, pushing himself up on one arm and glaring at her as she leveled her other blade at his optics.

“Yield,” she said simply.

He sneered. “Like I would ever yield to a femme glitch like you!” His arm came up and backhanded her across the face plates, and she could feel and taste energon as she blow made her bite the inside of her cheek. She stumbled back, keeping her other blade in servo and putting distance between herself and the mech.

She spat out a glob of energon as he rose to his knees and came at her with his sword, her own snapping in his knee joint. He swung at her wildly, enough that she was barely able to parry his attacks, until an overhand strike forced her to block, her sword barely stopping the heavier blade and even heavier mech behind it.

Dreadbolt glowered at her from behind their crossed blades. “Yield, and I might be gentle with the ‘facing.”

She glared up at him, though her arms trembled from holding him off. “Not a chance in Hell!” Bracing on her back foot, she raised her front one to kick at his crotch plates, coming down hard on her reinforced and pointed heel. 

He only flinched from the strike, but it was enough for Silvermaille to push him back enough to slip away,  her blade cutting into a gap in his side armor, then behind him to specifically target the gap between his crotch and leg plates, slicing several lines that sent him toppling down. Another slash, and he was staying down, at least his lower half. His servo was reaching for his sword, but a quick stomp from her pede and a slice across his wrist stopped that.

She kicked his side, rolling him over so he was facing up, and she stepped between his legs, raising her blade to be level with his neck.

“Yield. I yield.” He said, a look of fear in his optics. “Take your prize.”

Silvermaille looked him over, tilting her helm as if considering it. In this ring, it was customary for the victor to humiliate the loser through forced interface if they yielded. Ignoring the churn of her tanks at that thought, she looked him dead in the optic. 

“You don’t deserve that.”

A quick slash of her blade and his throat cables were sliced through, as well as the nerves that connected his CPU to his spark. He was dead before his body fell to the ground.

It was silent for a moment, then the crowd started jeering at her, calling her out for defeating their champion and denying them a further show. She looked them over and bowed to them, holding her blade across her chest like a knight, and ignoring the blue energon that dripped off it. She’d done her job, she wanted to collect her prize and get out.

The match officials came out, some dragging Dreadbolt’s body off somewhere, One went to Dreadbolt’s blade, but she intercepted him and picked up the blade herself. It was large and a little unwieldy, but she managed to heft it after a moment.

“May I keep this,” she asked the official who had gone it it initially.

He shrugged. “It’ll be scrap anyway. Might as well be scrap with a point.” He pointed to opposite the way they’d take Dreadbolt. “Go that way and collect your winnings.

She nodded her thanks and, after picking up the remains of her shattered sword, walked out of the arena. She’d survived the first fight, but what had shook her the most was the look on Dreadbolt’s faceplates. He had fear and shock of being killed, but also relief that he would not be violated. And she promised she would never do that to the mechs she faced, if they all had that look in their faces. 

In the mean time, his blade would work for materials in making a replacement for her own. She would even carve his name in base of the blade, to remember him. Not that she’d ever forget his face. There was no way she’d forget that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a drabble about my oc Silvermaille, who is a human-turned-seeker who somehow ends up in the Kaon during the late Golden Age. She join the gladiator pits as a way to survive, which is a tough and gritty world I hope I captured a bit of here. Eventually, she will meet with Megatronus and Soundwave and get involved with the Decepticons movement, but when Orion comes into the picture, she realizes she can change the fate of the world, but has to decide if it is worth it or not.
> 
> That's the plan anyway, in the mean time, she is a character availible for RP and asks over on askrosocs.tumblr.com, which is an ask blog for a bunch of my original characters. Come check it out, if you want.


End file.
